


as though there is such thing as time enough

by eunvoia



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Feels, Fluff, basically a retelling of the dance scene at veld, which is too beautiful not to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eunvoia/pseuds/eunvoia
Summary: “Okay. If you’re going to be fighting the god of war,” he says, putting his beer on the floor, "I might as well teach you how to dance, you poor thing.” Steve tries to sound nonchalant. He’s rehearsed this sentence in his head multiple times, but still doesn’t understand how the two statements– war god and dancing– connect. And as though Diana is poor, of all things. What a joke.A Steve/Diana fluff drabble based on the dancing scene in Veld.





	as though there is such thing as time enough

For a while, the two of them savor the sweet-smelling air, breathing in the mingled scents of beer and warm food. A small smile tugs at Steve’s mouth. It's the sight of people dancing, and the sound of singing, of _laughing,_ as though they haven't done it before. As though there is no war to fight, to mourn.

He hasn't smiled, or allowed himself to, in a very, very long time. And as strange as it is, it feels good.

With a pang, he realizes that ‘good' has not been part of his vocabulary either.

The soldier in him forces him to think of the war, the mission, the lives at risk. Something they can do– now. But as Sameer and Chief say, there isn’t anything they can do until tomorrow, and Diana had nodded in agreement.

Who is he to argue?

 

"Do you have dancing on Paradise Island?” Steve asks carefully, watching the couples sway to the music.

“Dancing? Of course. These people are just… _swaying,_ ” Diana scoffs.

“Okay. If you’re going to be fighting the god of war,” he says, putting his beer on the floor, "I might as well teach you how to dance, you poor thing.” Steve tries to sound nonchalant. He’s rehearsed this sentence in his head multiple times, but still doesn’t understand how the two statements– war god and dancing– connect. And as though Diana is _poor,_ of all things. What a joke.

Steve shuts that self-doubting part of himself out. Then he pretends not to notice, that the better-than-average man he’d introduced himself as, has shaky knees around her.

“If you would.” He bows deeply, raises an outstretched hand. For a second, he's scared that Diana will laugh at him, or reject his offer.

Diana beams, putting her glass down as well. Everything melts away as she stands up.

“Well, if I’m going to a gala, I’m going to need to know how to–" She begins.

“You’re not going.”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I?"

“Well, for one, you don’t know how to dance."

This conversation is going nowhere.

Then his arm is around her, other hand holding hers, and he is saying, “And we just… what did you call it? Sway?” As though he could forget. “And we just… sway.” Her fingers, laced in his, are warm and gentle, and he can’t really hear himself over the rush of blood to his head.

“You’re awfully close," remarks Diana. Suddenly his pounding heart is ten times louder.

“That’s what it’s all about.” He's surprised he can still speak, but he knows he’s right. Up close, she radiates even more light, joy, reminding him of the goodness, the beauty that could exist in his warring, shattered world. He recalls the time he opened his eyes on the shores, after he thought he had drowned. Between his gasps for air, he’d wondered whether he had died and seen an angel, her features glowing in the tropical sun.

He was right that time, too.

 

“I see.” Diana nods matter-of-factly, her eyes piercing, and turns her head to the sound of the singing inside.

“I haven’t heard him sing in years,” Steve manages. The sound brings a sort of burning in his eyes, and the all-too-familiar catch in his throat, but this time, it isn’t because something terrible has happened.

“It’s a snowfall,” he realizes. He can’t help but grin as he watches her reaction, a smile lighting up her face. “Touch it."

She laughs, delighted, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful sound. “It’s magical."

“It is, isn’t it?” Oh, Diana. But _you_ are. He doesn’t understand how he can deserve this, deserve her. Diana of Themyscira, a better, kinder person than he can ever be. Maybe one day, he'll prove himself wrong.

“Is this what people do when there are no wars to fight?"

War. For an ugly word, it is powerful. Terrifying.

“Yeah.” (But what could other people do compare to this?) “Yeah. This and… other things."

“What things?” He can feel the warmth of her breath brushing his face.

“Um… have breakfast. They’d really love a breakfast, and… they’d love to wake up, read the paper, go to work… get married, make some babies, and grow old together… I guess."

The idea is so far away. Distant, far-fetched, and intangible, considering that all he’s thought about this week has been his mission, trying to plot their way into Dr. Poison’s factories. Considering all he’s ever dared hope for has been safety for the people around him. His own survival.

It’s almost cruel, mentioning ’no wars to fight' when this is _the war_ to end all wars. Dangling, just above him, and never-reaching, like a cat’s toy.

Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks at him with an intensity that makes him feel as though she can hear what he’s thinking.

“What is it like?"

Steve can only concentrate on the brown eyes meeting his.

“I have no idea."

 

All Diana can think of is how Steve Trevor doesn't have the faintest idea what he would be without pain, without brokenness. Without war. 

It breaks her heart. 

Once this is all over, he will, Diana promises herself fiercely. _He will._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are truly appreciated. I know there is a lot of room for improvement as this is my second fic, so leaving helpful suggestions, or constructive criticism/feedback would mean a ton. This will become a chapter in a work of Wondertrev one-shots. And like everyone else, this ship has taken over my soul. :'(


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